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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141594">Ghosts of the Past</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/YuGiOKaeri/pseuds/YuGiOKaeri'>YuGiOKaeri</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime &amp; Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Fluff, M/M, Ryou goes to a museum, implied past thiefshipping, might add more characters/relationships, writing as i go</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:15:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141594</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/YuGiOKaeri/pseuds/YuGiOKaeri</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(Five Years Post-Season 5)</p><p>Bakura Ryou is working a job he enjoys, at the Domino City Museum. It’s during a work trip to Egypt that he runs into someone he never expected to see again, leading to having to meet a few more people he hadn’t anticipated re-meeting—parts of his past he had wanted to never see again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Yami Bakura/Marik Ishtar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Why was it so difficult to move on? In the five years since Bakura Ryou’s life had become what would be classified as more “normal” than it ever had been, he had decided it was best to try to keep moving forward, as Yuugi and everyone else seemed to be doing. It wasn’t that he missed the spirit, not really. But getting used to being alone in your own mind, that had taken adjusting.</p><p> </p><p>Lately, he didn’t think about it too much, though. With his job as a museum fact-checker (as he liked calling it) keeping him on his toes all the time, he was content focusing on ancient Egyptian artefacts more than a long-dead spirit that haunted his childhood.</p><p> </p><p>Tonight, he was packing up for a week-long work trip to Egypt, stirring mixed feelings. He had already agreed to go, yes, but there was still an old anxiety. He associated his work in ensuring accuracy of Egyptian displays in museums more with the country more than anything else nowadays, but he’d stayed away since that final duel.</p><p> </p><p>Ryou shook his head. He didn’t usually have travel anxiety like this. It’s fine—not like the spirit was wandering the Earth, trying to reunite with his host. Though, that might be an interesting cheesy paranormal film…</p><p> </p><p>He kept busy the rest of the day, checking in with his boss before leaving that evening.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Bakura-san,” the middle-aged man said warmly, turning in his chair. “Do you have a moment?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” Ryou sat when gestured to, nervously clasping his hands in his lap. “Is something the matter?”</p><p> </p><p>His boss started, then gave a gentle laugh. “Oh no, son, not at all. Actually, it’s about your trip to Egypt tomorrow—a position similar to the one you're filling here is opening at the museum you’re going to be working for, and if you like it there, I can recommend you to fill the position.”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura perked, curiosity piqued. The chance to travel and live abroad certainly interested him, before that old wash of trepidation came over him. Again, he was trying to shake it away. He had this one week to find out if anything immediately bad would happen. If not, why not? Maybe the best way to get over this fear was to live in it.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll keep it in mind, thank you,” Ryou said. He offered a smile, getting a hefty one in return. After a hesitating pause, Ryou spoke again; “Is there anything else?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, sorry, have a good night. I’ll see you next week.” His boss gave a small wave to see the white-haired man out. Ryou left the office, stomach churning with a host of emotions, turning one another over, all the way home and throughout the process of packing his bags.</p><p> </p><p>Unease even followed him into his dreams, which dissipated into shapeless memories in the morning, unable to be recalled, but leaving a lingering bad taste. Ryou turned over, again and again, trying to get back to sleep. His alarm hadn’t gone off yet, and he needed as much sleep as possible to get through his flight.</p><p> </p><p>Finally he flipped onto his stomach, grabbing his phone to check the time. With a groan, Ryou threw it back down. 4AM—three hours before he had to start getting ready, and only five hours after he’d settled down to sleep. Sure, he wasn’t tired now, but his body would catch on sooner rather or later.</p><p> </p><p>He finally decided to go on and be up, and double-check his bags once more, just in case. The hours dragged on, managed to be wasted with coffee, a shower, and mindlessly flicking through Twitter.</p><p> </p><p>Ryou was right, he found out on his drive to the airport at 9.30, brain starting to get sluggish and body yawning uncontrollably. Oh well, nothing to do about it now.</p><p> </p><p>Once through security and all else he had to do, he swung by a pricey airport coffee-shop, having two shots of espresso mixed into his choice drink. Then, he was on his way, whittling away the time until his flight departed.</p><p> </p><p>The flight went by hazily, half of it spent asleep, the other half with a thick book on ancient civilisations. And then, finally, the plane made its landing, Ryou sitting straight up eagerly. Apparently, the head supervisor of the ancient Egyptian display had been supposed to greet him, but the man had gotten sick, and promised he would send a trusted employee of the museum to greet and guide Ryou. It was a last-minute rushed thing, but Ryou didn’t mind.</p><p> </p><p>However, he didn’t know what this person looked like, or if he would be able to pick them out of the large, crowded airport. He hoped they would have something to set themselves apart—maybe a big cardboard sign with his name written on it. He would certainly see that.</p><p> </p><p>Soon enough, however, after first locating and picking up his baggage, he found he didn’t need some huge sign to set his future guide apart from the crowd. Making his way to the greeting area, he glanced around, quickly noticing an unsettlement a few metres away. People walking past that area turned their heads, moving away with puzzled expressions, murmuring to those they were travelling with.</p><p> </p><p>Curious, Ryou wove his way over, standing on his tip-toes to peer over the crowd. It took a moment, but upon realisation, he gaped, landing back flat on his feet.</p><p> </p><p>A regal woman, standing gracefully was looking around. She was graceful and beautiful, even just from standing there, yes, but what seemed to cause the interest of strangers was what she wore. Elaborate robes, will a veil draped over her midnight hair, pale fabric illuminating her gorgeously deep skin tone, gold jewellery that seemed ancient and mesmerising. That was all well and good, but the reason Ryou found himself astonished was because he knew her, and seeing her again set a panic into his veins he couldn’t control.</p><p> </p><p>He pushed past the passerby in his path to her, barely giving her time to notice him before blurting her name: “Isis-san?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The elegant woman turned, blue eyes lighting up, a small smile settling over her countenance. “Bakura-san, hello.” She gave a slight bow.</p><p> </p><p>Ryou was still sputtering. He really hadn’t expected to see her here, or any of the Ishtars ever again. Egypt was by no means a small country, and Cairo was well-removed from the remote place he’d last seen the clan in.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t want to see her here.</p><p> </p><p>“This is such a surprise—I had no idea—how?” Ryou ended lamely, brow furrowed, eyes darting around. Maybe this was a coincidence. Maybe she wasn’t even the one here to pick him up. It could be anyone else in this airport, and she could be here to see anyone else.</p><p> </p><p>“It was very last minute,” Isis admitted, “but the lead supervisor has gotten ill, and I happen to be stationed at the same museum you’re going to right now. Of course, I recognised your name and volunteered to pick you up right away.” She smiled, obviously expecting Ryou to be happy as well.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s very generous of you,” Ryou said, trying to not be rude. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>Despite his faked politeness, his stomach was dropping. It’s only a week, he reminded himself. Sooner or later, though, he knew the old, sore subject would come up: Battle City. It wasn’t that he had any particularly bad memories of the time himself (well, he had come to with a whole stab wound—there was still a faint scar), but rather, he knew his dark half must have done terrible things. He’d gotten a rough run-down from Yuugi. It wasn’t great.</p><p> </p><p>Anything having to do with the spirit, Ryou wanted to scrub thoroughly out of his life, and feeling guilt at just the sight of someone who had most likely been done ill by the parasite that once inhabited him was uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>To get it out of the way sooner rather than later, he awkwardly started up; “Ah, anything that happened back in Battle City, to you or your family—“</p><p> </p><p>Isis waved her hand, a pitying look resting briefly on her face. “That’s well in the past. There’s no reason to worry over anything that happened then, or think of it anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>“I-I suppose, but—“</p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright. Now, there are more important things at hand.” Isis turned briskly, leading the way out and having Ryou trot after, still wanting to find a way to apologise. He felt a little better, knowing she was completely dismissive of it, but she hadn’t even let him finish his sentence.</p><p> </p><p>The woman’s lithe frame wove effortlessly through the crowds, nearly getting too far ahead of Ryou several times, who was less used to so many people coming and going in one place. When he finally burst out after Isis, he breathed in the hot, dry air with relief. Even if there weren’t really any less people out here, it felt less crammed. Isis slowed down out here, too, allowing Ryou to keep pace side-by-side with her until they got into the waiting cab.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re stopping off by the hotel so you can drop your things off first,” Isis said. “We’re actually staying in the same hotel, so if you need anything, I’m only a few floors down, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Ryou nodded, sliding down in his seat. The stress he felt from seeing Isis was starting to ebb away, replaced with tiredness and jet lag from travelling. “You don’t live around here?”</p><p> </p><p>Isis shook her head. “Our home is several hours from here, but I have to travel so much for work, I’m hardly ever there. My brothers are taking care of it, though.” Her eyes suddenly lit up. “I should take you down this week—Malik has been talking about you lately. I’m not really sure why…”</p><p> </p><p>Ryou flushed, another wash of guilt and anxiety filling his gut. He caught the look in Isis’ eyes, though—the look that told him he was about to be ushered into a date against his will. “I don’t know, I think work’s going to keep me pretty occupied,” he said, turning his face toward the cab’s window.</p><p> </p><p>“There will be plenty of time, I’m sure. Don’t forget, there are plenty of artefacts to study down there, as well, so it could even be work-related if you’re that worried.”</p><p> </p><p>There wasn’t a way out of it, Ryou realised. She was right, though; the artefacts near Kul Elna had to be bountiful, and even the ruins were a glorious sight to behold. If he had no choice, he was going to make the best of it. “If that’s the case, when’s the soonest we can go?” he asked, ready to have it out of the way as soon as possible.</p><p> </p><p>A pause wavered in the air for a moment, leading Ryou to glance back at Isis. Her smile had lit up, Egyptian sunlight through the cab window sending glowing streaks running over her face.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll speak to the supervisor as soon as possible,” she said, meeting Ryou’s eyes as the cab pulled to a stop in front of the large, grandiose hotel. “For tonight, please get as much rest as you can.”</p><p> </p><p>Ryou smiled slightly, keeping in mind the sight of Kul Elna’s old bones rising over desert sands while trying to forget he’d have to meet her younger brother again, apologise for everything that had happened.</p><p> </p><p>Apparently, Isis was going back to work, so Ryou was dropped off with his things before the cab sped off, taking Isis with it. It only took a few minutes for him to go in, confirm his reservation, and be up in his room, laid out on the soft bed, sore body aching. The aches and pains from his long day slowly faded away, however, replaced by sleep brushing his eyelids shut.</p><p> </p><p>~~~</p><p> </p><p>Ryou groggily opened his eyes to early morning light and his alarm ringing out. It felt like his whole body was rejecting this time zone. He could already tell this jet lag was going to be a bitch.</p><p> </p><p>He did manage to drag himself up and get ready, before heading into work, thermos of hot coffee in hand. It was 4PM at home, but 9AM here—making his sleep feel more like a long nap than a good night’s rest.</p><p> </p><p>Isis was the first person who saw, and she greeted him warmly. Throughout the day, Ryou was quick to find she was primarily serving as a translator with her fluent Japanese and Arabic. Come to think, Malik and Rishid spoke those languages fluently, as well. The Ishtar clan was certainly a talented one, Ryou thought, and was thankful for.</p><p> </p><p>Another thing he found throughout the day was that his anxiety over seeing Isis, and anything that might come with that, had begun to fade. She treated him kindly, without a trace of awkwardness, seeming that she really had put the past behind her. She’d moved on. It had been five years.</p><p> </p><p>So why couldn’t Ryou get over it already?</p><p> </p><p>At the end of the day, Isis took him by the arm and walked him out to wait for a cab. “I spoke to the supervisor,” she said, an excited cheeriness hard to hide behind her calm exterior. “We’re going to Kul Elna tomorrow.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">It wasn’t that Rishid didn’t <em>trust</em> his younger brother, necessarily, but Malik didn’t always make the best choices, the older man was explaining, leaving Malik to just nod along, attention long since left. It didn’t really seem worth having a drawn out discussion over, regardless.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Finally, Malik interrupted. “You know, I’m an adult now, right?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Rishid blew out an exasperated breath. “Someone who acts like an adult wouldn’t have to remind me.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Is this because I ate the left-overs you had dibs on? I already said I’m sorry—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“No, no it’s not.” Rishid propped his elbows on his knees, running a hand over his mostly bald head. “But I’m looking into getting a better job, you know, possibly out of town. You’d be in charge of this place majority of time, with Isis gone all the time…”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Malik waved his hand casually, tapping his foot against the floor. “I take care of the place while you’re out all day, don’t I?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Rishid went quiet, looking past Malik into the hall of the small house. Malik tensed, looking over his own shoulder quickly, making certain he’d shut his door behind himself. He relaxed, seeing he had. When he went back to meeting Rishid’s eyes, one eyebrow was now quirked upward.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Who have you been having over, Malik?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Malik blinked, opting out of answering. Rishid, however, was good enough at that game, and leaned back into his seat and crossed his arms. He wasn’t saying anything till Malik answered.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The silence was broken quickly by Rishid’s cell phone ringing, which he hesitated before checking. Malik began to stand, taking this as his win, before catching the glare in his older brother’s expression. Huffing out a sigh, he sat back down.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Hello, Isis,” Rishid answered. Malik straightened up, scooting his chair closer to Rishid’s, trying to hear what his sister was saying. “I’m putting you on speaker—Malik wants to hear, alright?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">In a moment, Isis’ calm, strong voice came through the device. “Hey, Malik.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Hey,” Malik said, leaning against the arm of Rishid’s chair. Whatever she wanted right now had hopefully taken Rishid’s mind off anything they were talking about a few moments ago. “What’re you calling for?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Well, you remember Bakura, right? The vessel himself?” Isis said, the sound of shuffling papers in her background coming through the phone in grainy bursts.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What about him?” Malik leaned forward, interest peaking quickly. Rishid simply nodded in response, not being much for spoken word. Part of the reason he seemed to so enjoy being a construction worker for now, perhaps.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“He’s gone into museum work!” The excitement Isis displayed briefly was uncharacteristic, but she cleared her throat and returned to a more level tone. “He staying here for the week, and arrived today. My supervisor and I are currently working on the details, but I have gotten the go-ahead on taking him down to survey Kul Elna. I know you’ve been wondering after him, Malik, but I wanted to know if either of you wanted to come down and see him?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’ll make time if I can, but work,” Rishid said with an unbothered shrug. “Send him my regards, anyway.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Malik, on the other hand, matched his excitement to Isis’, taking the phone from Rishid. “Let me know when, and I’ll be there!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">After that, the conversation swayed to various other things, mundane things. The usual weekly check-in from their sister. And, as hoped, Rishid had his mind taken off his earlier question, slipping into warm conversation with Isis.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Before Isis wrapped up her goodbyes for the call, Malik got up, going to the kitchen to get some food. He could hear Rishid’s voice rumbling softly from the living room, without being able to make out the words. Carefully, Malik piled leftovers from dinner into a plastic Tupperware—yellow curry over rice and ginger, with a side of boiled green beans. He dug through the fridge till he found some slightly droopy broccoli, and added that into the dish.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Next, he filled a plastic cup with water, keeping the Tupperware balanced in one hand as he did so. With the meal put together, and checked over to be sure there was plenty, Malik grabbed a pair of plastic chopsticks from the drawer and headed back into his room, sliding out of the second entrance to avoid letting his brother see the meal. With a bit of juggling, he managed to open his door without dropping or spilling anything.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Within, his room was dark. The blinds were drawn, nightlights unplugged and bedside lamp shut off. It was getting later into the evening, so no light managed to leak past the edge of curtains like usual. Exhaling in annoyance, Malik dropping the dish on his bedside table, setting the cup beside it, before plugging his two nightlights back in.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The gentle lights illuminated a thin figure in his bed, draped in blankets, stirring at the interruption. “I got your dinner,” Malik said, keeping his voice low so Rishid wouldn’t hear him, seemingly talking to himself.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“‘Bout time,” a rough voice belonging to the figure grumbled, sitting all the way up. Unkept white hair framed his gaunt face, his eyes reflecting glimmering light. His face, his body, his voice were all copied near exactly from that of Bakura Ryou. Well, an underfed, malnourished Bakura Ryou kicked from any kind of restful afterlife by the gods.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It had been ten days now since Malik had opened the door of his home to take a joyride on his bike, and found this…person? Spirit? What the fuck even was he at this point? Living in a copy of an old host, it hadn’t taken much to figure out this was the ancient spirit of the Millennium Ring.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Malik had initially panicked, thinking someone had dumped a body on his doorstep, before finally finding a gentle pulse. He wasn’t sure what exactly he should do, or who he should call, if anyone, but he had ended up taking the man into his home. Malik sat him up on the couch, and waited for him to wake up.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He hadn’t been wearing anything, so Malik had draped a blanket over him, before digging through his drawers for some proper clothes to cover this person once he came to.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It was Bakura. He could tell right away, remember exactly the way he looked, even if it had been five years. Why was he here, though? Had be not been completely wiped away? <em>What the hell was going on?</em></p><p class="p1">Eventually, Bakura had awoken, groggy and cursing, limbs kicking out as he shakily stood, taking in his surroundings uncertainly. When he met Malik’s eyes, he raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms across his bare chest. “Where am I?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The last time they had seen each other, they had no way of knowing if the other would ever see the light of day again, and this fucker led with “where am I.” Confusion and uncertainty were instantly quashed with annoyance.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Shoving hair behind his shoulders from his neck, Malik took a firm step forward, finger pushing into the space just below Bakura’s bony collarbone. “You could at least say hello first, you know? What was your big plan, anyway? Showing up on my doorstep naked, real great idea, for sure.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Calm the fuck down,” Bakura spat back, swaying on his feet before sitting down, face contouring into a nasty scowl. “I just woke up here, didn’t know it was your place, or even why I’m here to begin with.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The venom had dropped significantly from his voice, causing Malik worry, smoothing down his agitation for the time being. The way he looked unhealthily thin meant he probably hadn’t eaten in a long time, and the long scar running down the right side of his face didn’t look great, either.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">In the time that had passed since, Malik had kept Bakura in his room, fed him with leftovers from meals and made sure he was comfortable until they figured out where else to house them. The old spirit had bitched at first, but now seemed to appreciate the fact he got food and a roof without having to work too much for it.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Malik had decided against telling Rishid, who was out of the house majority of the day, six days a week, anyway. It would only cause issues and have him worry needlessly. Bakura didn’t seem to be too harmful at the moment, at least. Malik doubted he be up to much till his body was healthy again.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Now, Malik sat at the edge of his bed, turning over the dish he’d brought Bakura lunch in. It was cleaned thoroughly, maybe even licked clean. Malik scrunched his nose, trying to move on from the thought. “So,” he started, leaning back on his hands, “Your old host is going to be in town, with my sister soon.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Bakura looked up from his dish, chopsticks shoved halfway into his gob. “What for?” he asked, a clump of rice falling from his mouth.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Finish chewing before you talk, you cretin,” Malik snapped, giving a gentle smack to the back of the other’s head. Bakura waved his hand irritably, glaring. Once he’d swallowed, he motioned for Malik to answer his question. “Work shit. Apparently he went into museum work like Isis.” Malik shrugged.</p><p>“Does he know I’m here?” Bakura seemed genuinely curious, though for what reason, Malik wasn’t sure.</p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t told anyone, so I don’t know. How would he know? Are you two still…connected?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hell if I know.” Bakura sat the now-empty Tupperware down, taking a few sips from the cup of water before lying back down in bed with a sigh. “I can’t ‘sense’ him or anything anymore. We aren’t bound by the same body, so it makes sense.”</p><p> </p><p>Malik gave a short hum in response, wondering for the thousandth time why Bakura was even back, with a body of his own. Or, was it even his own body? Had Bakura Ryou a twin the gods had replaced with the thief king?</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure he has to know something,” Malik said after a short lull. “Ever since you got copy-pasted back to life, I’ve wondered if your host might have some kind of knowledge about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like to know why I’m fuck-knows-where Egypt instead of Domino City,” Bakura said, voice getting muffled by him pulling the covers back over himself. He seemed to be always tired, but this body did look worn ragged, not quite the same ravishing devil he’d been last Malik had seen him in Battle City.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, get some sleep. Let me know if there’s anything you want to ask him whenever I see him, too.” Malik stood up off his bed, pausing to check Bakura for fever, before laying a soft kiss on his forehead. Same nightly ritual for the tenth night in a row.</p><p> </p><p>As Malik was exiting the room with the dirty dishes, he thought he heard Bakura mutter something, but after a moment’s hesitation decided to ignore it.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The dune buggy shook and gasped, seeming to be barely clinging to the last of what life it had left in it. Ryou gripped the door handle, teeth gritted as they hit a bump. Isis sat still, seeming composed and calm as usual, unbothered by the rattling and wheezing vehicle.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The road to Kul Elna seemed to be something less tangible, and more of something Isis would vaguely point out to the driver. Each sand dune looked the exact same to the white-haired man, however.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Are we almost there?” he asked, knowing how much of a whining brat he sounded at the moment.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“A few more minutes,” Isis reassured him, settling back into her seat. “Rishid wasn’t able to make it, but Malik said he’d be around.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Ryou avoided her eye contact, rubbing the back of his neck. He absently wondered if Malik had changed. Would he be wearing something more understated than what he had worn as a sixteen-year-old? Would he have gotten a hair cut? Would he recognise the Egyptian now?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The buggy finally gave a fading rasp, coming to a halt at a sizeable distance from the ruins of Kul Elna. Isis said something in Arabic, which the driver interrupted with angry words. Ryou shifted uncomfortably, thinking that he should probably start looking into learning the language before thinking more about a permanent position in the Cairo museum.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Isis gave a short snort, throwing her hair behind her shoulders, flinging a glance to Ryou. “The driver thinks it’s haunted, and refuses to go any further. He’ll wait here for us, though.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The last thing Ryou needed was more ancient Egyptian spirits in his life, but the idea of something paranormal happening <em>did </em>appeal to him at the same time.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“That’s alright,” he said, getting out of the dusty old vehicle with a sigh of relief.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Isis also dismounted, going around the back to stand beside Ryou. She waited in stillness for a moment, before saying softly, “Are you ready?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Ryou nodded, with a slight smile, shifting his pack of tools on his back. They began walking toward the ruins, looming, but broken. In their full glory, they would have surely been a sight to behold. The diorama the spirit had him build gave him a vague idea of how commanding this area had once been, but Ryou had never gotten to see it in the pharaoh’s reimagined glory in the spirit world.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It took nearly 30 minutes to trek all the way there. Ryou was panting, trying to keep his feet from continuing to sink into the sand. Isis had thin beads of sweat dribbling down her face, but her expression remained stoic.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The pillars were broken apart, most only going up to Ryou’s waist. One or two stretched above his head, though, still broken nonetheless. It was…sad. Ryou couldn’t quite explain how he felt all of a sudden, or why he felt this way, but there was simply sadness pervading his emotions now.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He stood still, standing in the middle of the pillars. He shut his eyes as wind brushed through his hair, gently, carrying unintelligible whispers. Were they nature’s whispers, or the ghosts of the Thief King’s childhood village?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Once Ryou opened his eyes, he saw Isis embracing a lithe form, murmurs of Arabic greeting passing between the two. How had Ryou not seen Malik as they’d been making their way up here?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Ryou awkwardly shuffled his feet, waiting for the two to finish their moment before he went to digging around in his pack. Malik’s footsteps were muffled in the sand as he came to stand beside Ryou. “Oh, hello,” Ryou said, shoving hair out of his eyes.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Malik studied him silently, violet eyes searching over Ryou quietly. “Hey.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Ryou sighed. Malik had to hold some kind of resentment, right? The thief’s spirit had surely hurt or manipulated the man when they were younger. Ryou couldn’t really remember Battle City at all, given the spirit had been so active during that time.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’ve you been?” Ryou went back to digging into his pack, crouched on the ground. Malik also crouched, mirroring Ryou’s actions.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’ve been fine,” Malik said, twisting the end of his braided hair around his fingers. It had grown out, but only slightly longer than what Ryou remembered. The length was a good look on him, though. “You know, your hair would probably give you less trouble if you pulled it back.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Ryou started, having been in the middle of pulling his hair out of his face once more. He laughed lightly. “It looks a mess when I try. Never really bothered to learn how to do it properly, y’know?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“That’s okay.” Malik moved to be behind Ryou, taking a gentle grasp of the long white hair, working in quick, deft motions to pull it back into a bun. “Didn’t have much to do growing up, but we all have long hair, so.” Malik shrugged as he scooted back into Ryou’s line of sight.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Thank you,” Ryou said, smiling slightly. It felt much better having it off his neck now. He wondered exactly how Malik didn’t seem to be too bothered by the lavish amounts of jewellery he was wearing—just as much as he’d worn as a teen. He really hadn’t changed much since then. But then again, neither had Ryou.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“So…” Malik seemed a little nervous now, working his fingers between one another. “This is going to sound a bit, well, insane, but do you think there’s any way for the old spirits to come back to life? In their own vessels?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You think it’s haunted, too?” Ryou nearly laughed, trying to imagine the man before him being afraid of some restless ghosts.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Not just here.” Malik shook his head. “In general. Like, if the pharaoh wanted to, could he just, come back to life? In a body of his own, instead of through his vessel.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The bit of mirth Ryou had felt drowned away. Maybe he wasn’t the only one having issues moving on. There was really no point in talking about this or worrying about it any longer.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“They’re all dead,” he replied flatly. “Unless they have something that needs to be finished, or didn’t manage to get to the after life after passing, a spirit has no right to be here. They can’t just come back without a vessel, either.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Something that needs to be finished? Like what?” Malik leaned in closer, eyebrows furrowing. “Could they <em>make </em>their own vessel?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Are you trying to summon a spirit or something?” Ryou yanked a spade out of his bag, looking around for Isis. She was out of earshot, seeming to be walking around the ruins, admiring them.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’m sure you’ve thought about it, too.” Malik ran his hand through the sand, pulling up a handful, before letting it trail out of his fingers. “If not how it would happen, how you would prevent it from reoccurring.” A cloud over the sun threw a shadow over the ruins, and effectively, over Malik’s face. There was a sudden intensity, bringing a cold shiver to Ryou.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He had completely forgotten about what Malik had gone through, with his own dark shadow hiding in his personality. Ryou was so used to being acquainted with Yuugi, with hearing how much they missed him, how empty Yuugi felt now. He felt guilty over feeling like his own person now, being happy he could live as he pleased. But Malik’s dark half was something completely different, and he had suffered in a way similar to Ryou.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What happened to you wasn’t a ghost. It’s not going to haunt around and come back,” Ryou tried to reassure him in some way, giving him an awkward pat on the shoulder.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Not a ghost, a fragment of my emotions. Who knows if my mind could make another.” Malik shrugged, the cloud passing at long last.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Ah…” Ryou didn’t know how to respond. That very well could happen, as far as he knew. “Are you in any kind of therapy—?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“It doesn’t matter.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“But, I mean—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“This isn’t about <em>that.</em>” Malik sat all the way down, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s over. I don’t care anymore.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">There was a clear anger and lie behind what he was saying. Ryou sighed, but let it go. He knew it had to be awful, dealing with the knowledge that your dark half could possibly resurface, or that you might make an entirely new one. “Sorry,” Ryou said, before standing up, brushing sand off of his clothes.</p><p> </p><p>“What would you do if your dark half came back?” Malik looked up at the other, seemingly content with staying put. He probably wasn’t all too interested in any artefacts, come to think.</p><p> </p><p>Ryou hesitated to answer, a swirl of panic in his gut. Just the idea of that spirit controlling his body again…taking away the life he had been working so hard to build back up and make his own. He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said softly, truly unsure if he could handle that.</p><p> </p><p>“What about if he came back with his own body?” Malik continued to push the matter.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think that can happen. There are only an equal number of souls to bodies, so it would be somebody’s body he had taken. But say the gods made him a new form, or cleaned up and re-fleshed his old one?” Ryou was trying to think of a way it was at all possible—and it wasn’t, really. “If he tried to go after me or any of my friends, I’d do whatever I had to keep everyone safe.”</p><p> </p><p>“And if he didn’t try to attack you and was peaceful, well, more or less?”</p><p> </p><p>Ryou scoffed at the very idea. “That spirit doesn’t know what peaceful is. He’s rotted in his own hatred and desire for revenge for too long. Any semblance of ‘peace’ would be to just get your guard down.”</p><p> </p><p>Malik went quiet, looking like he wanted to fire something back. He held his tongue, however. Ryou noted that, and sighed. “Whatever happened between you two in battle City, that’s not how he is. You don’t know him at all, okay? He never even talked about you, or as far as I know, thought of you ever again.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know that.” The Egyptian stood abruptly, face setting into a scowl. “Anyone can change. Someone’s past doesn’t define them.”</p><p> </p><p>“He wanted to murder the entire planet, Malik.”</p><p> </p><p>Malik searched for words for a moment, flustered. Ryou let out a long sigh. Maybe he had been a bit harsh, but this was a sore subject for him, just as much as it would probably be for Malik if he had slept with the Egyptian man’s shadow half.</p><p> </p><p>“You were 16, you didn’t really know better, but I think he was just taking advantage of you. I think you need to let go,” Ryou said, trying to scrounge up some sympathy. “He can’t come back, even if I’m wrong. I’m sorry, but—”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s not gone,” Malik said, suddenly interrupting. “You deserve to know.”</p><p> </p><p>Ryou blinked. Then he laughed, shaking his head. He stopped when he noticed Malik wasn’t laughing, though, and had an ashamed look on his face, eyes cast on the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“He can’t come back,” Ryou said, again. “He’s gone. He’s <em>dead</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, but he’s not. And he’s not awful anymore.” Malik was speaking vehemently now, fists tight at his sides. “He isn’t trying to kill or hurt anyone, you know? I don’t think he gives a fuck about that, honestly. Oh, and you?” He strode forward, eyes darkened by the shadow of his drawn and angry brow. “You don’t get to tell me shit about what happened between me and him.”</p><p> </p><p>Ryou was reeling, stomach knotting intensely as he gaped, still trying to grasp the thought that the spirit was alive, and Malik had obviously seen him or been with him. Or, had he?</p><p> </p><p>Malik had an awful, traumatic past, and there was no way he had simply worked past that without going to therapy, right? In some way, he had surely grieved the spirit’s passing, and combined with already-proven unstable psyche, he was hallucinating. That made sense, honestly.</p><p> </p><p>Only a bit of stress leaked out from that conclusion, though. Simply the idea that the spirit could be back ate at his mind.</p><p> </p><p>Before Ryou could think of anything to say, either to deescalate the situation, or tell Malik he needed serious help, the man had spun, back turning on Ryou as he walked away, toward a distant figure of a motorbike.</p><p> </p><p>Above all else, the first thing Ryou thought was not on anything Malik had said now, rather—<em>how the hell did he ride a bike all the way here?</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Ryou stood still, bewildered, upset, and unsure of what to do now. In just a moment, Isis was beside him, face contorted into concern with a gentle hand on Ryou’s shoulder. “What happened?” she asked softly, gesturing to Malik, who was starting up his bike now, getting ready to leave.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I think your brother needs help,” Ryou said bluntly, looking at her with wide eyes.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“What? What did he say?” Isis’ grip tightened, the worry deepening on her face. Absently, Ryou wondered if she would age too quickly from all the stress she had endured in her lifetime already.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Just nonsense about the ring spirit being back.” Ryou shook his head. “He seems like he knows what he’s talking about, but that’s—that’s not possible, right, Isis?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I don’t think so,” she reassured him, grip relaxing, but face remaining etched in concern. “I’ll talk to him later about it, though.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">If it weren’t possible, she wouldn’t look so upset. Ryou blew a shaky breath from his mouth. “Isis, if it’s possible, don’t lie to me, please?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She shook her head, swiping a hand through her already neat hair. “I’m sure it’s not, but still. The gods are unpredictable. Who knows how the hand of fate may lay its cards?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">While Ryou didn’t really consider himself religious or non-religious, to him, the existence of the Egyptian gods was less a religious ideation, and more of a fact. With all that had happened, he would be insane to say they didn’t exist, after all.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He just nodded, trying to calm his shaking hands and rushing heart. There was no way. Even if so, he could leave. He didn’t have to confront the spirit, or ever see him again. But what of whoever’s life that spirit would have to be ruining by taking their flesh? Didn’t he owe that stranger some help, just from having gone through that himself?</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Isis gave him an awkward hug, obviously not too used to the gesture, but trying her best to reassure Ryou anyway. He appreciated that, and gave her a light pat on the back in return. “Whatever happens, is going to happen. We will defeat any darkness as necessary.” Isis’ words were calm and strong, grounding Ryou and wrapping him in the feeling of safety.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">The rest of the time they stayed, Ryou was distracted, having a hard time keeping his focus on the long-since used pieces of artefacts strewn just below the surface of the sand. It really was an archaeological landmine, Ryou was surprised it hadn’t been picked clean yet.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">It was nearly noon when Isis told him they could head back to the museum for the rest of the work day if he so desired, which Ryou most certainly did. An unsettled feeling had tamped down his earlier panic, blessedly. This was better than complete fear.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">But as they were driving away, after the long trek back to the superstitious driver, Ryou realised why the site hadn’t been yet explored—just as so many people died and were brutally hurt by messing with millennium items, the spirits of Kul Elna surely sought revenge on those who dare disturb their home. It sent a nervous chill down his spine.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Perhaps Malik and his words of the old spirit being back were punishment for poking around where Ryou didn’t belong. The gods watched passively, without lifting a finger to help. In this way, they certainly weren’t like any religious god Ryou knew of. They minded their own business, and left the people to fend for themselves until absolutely necessary, or until summoned.</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">If only they would step in and wipe away the darkness away, so maybe the people wouldn’t have to work so hard to keep themselves safe. With that thought, Ryou shut his eyes, and tried to ignore the bouncing of the vehicle further exasperating his coiling stomach.</p>
<hr/>
<p class="p1">Malik slammed the door as he entered his home, still seething, despite the time and distance the long ride home had offered. Rishid wasn’t home, so he wouldn’t be scolded anyway. He huffed, scraping his hands across his scalp, more wisps falling out of his braid. He was sure he looked a mess by now, having ditched his helmet to feel the wind whip his face—and unintentionally, muss his hair.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Have fun?” Bakura’s voice was dry, skinny body leaned against the back of Rishid’s favourite chair. He was nibbling at an end of bread, eyes cast on the bit of food.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Your host is an asshole,” Malik said, finally just grabbing the hair tie at the end of his hair, yanking it out. His hair fell out of array quickly, bouncing in curly strands across his shoulders.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Bakura lifted his gaze slightly, edge of his lips curling up. “I’d like to imagine that.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I thought it’d be fine, but he’s just a bitch.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Coming from you.” Bakura snorted, pushing off of the chair, going over to Malik to play with the Egyptian’s temporarily curly locks.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Malik cautiously looped an arm around Bakura’s waist, before pressing his face into Bakura’s neck. He breathed, in and out, slowly. His clothes hung too large on the smaller, much skinnier frame of the thief king, but it was cute. Slowly, tension seeped out of Malik’s shoulders, his breathing matching with Bakura’s, neither moving.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">At some point, Bakura placed his free hand on the back of Malik’s head, letting it rest there. It had been a long time, but Malik remembered Battle City. Details were getting fuzzy around most things, but he had recalled the most important memory over and over to the point it was concretely etched into his mind.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">The way Bakura had held him, as they cramped into that small bed together. They were both dripping in sweat, some their own, some from the other. Before drifting off to sleep at the end of that long night, they had been laying in a similar way to how they were now standing—Malik’s arms wrapped around Bakura’s waist, Bakura’s hands tucked behind Malik’s head.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">It was a good memory.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Malik pulled away, much calmer, much happier. His hands didn’t move from their position, however, while Bakura dropped his arms back to his sides.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“So my old landlord didn’t take this—“ Bakura gestured loosely to his body. “—very well.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Malik shook his head, smile fading away. He had gone a bit overboard calling the host an asshole, but he’d been heated over him saying that Bakura had never thought of him again after what happened. There was no way that was true. He wasn’t some one-dimension cartoon villain, twisting a handlebar moustache and giggling in dark alleyways. Everything he did was for a reason—to avenge his family, to gain closure. He’d gone a little overboard, yes, but Malik was certain he could help Bakura through that. Everyone deserved second chances.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“It’s fine,” Malik said. “I don’t think he had any idea how you came back, anyway. We don’t need to worry about him.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Bakura shrugged, stuffing the last small piece of the bread into his mouth. “Knows more’n you do about shit like this.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“What have I told you about talking with your mouth full?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Still true.” Bakura smirked, blocking Malik’s swat, gripping his wrist and yanking him off-balance.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Catching himself clumsily, Malik cursed. “You’re definitely feeling a lot better.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“What can I say? You’re taking such good care of me,” Bakura said, voice laced with venomous sarcasm, but Malik pretended he was being sincere.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Faking that he was still stumbling, Malik took a shaky step forward that ended with him falling onto Bakura, knocking the both of them to the floor. Bakura let out a short yelp, cut off by the air being knocked out of him. “Bitch!” he spat as soon as he could breathe.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Malik laughed, keeping him pinned to the floor. “There, there,” he cooed, grinning as Bakura struggled. He liked how things were right now. Everything was perfect.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Perhaps Ryou had overreacted. He hadn’t let Malik express his side of things at all, and had shut him down without hesitation. This thought was coming to him at 1AM as he laid on his side, wide-awake with a stomach ache more than likely induced from stress.</p><p> </p><p>He groaned, pushing his palms over his eyes. Then he rolled over to sit up, snatching up his phone and shooting Isis a text. <em>Can you give me Malik’s number by any chance? I’d like to talk to him.</em></p><p> </p><p>Knowing he wouldn’t get sleep anytime soon, Ryou ended up back on Twitter, trying to get his eyes to feel heavier, as they should’ve been from jet lag by now. He was tired, but not as tired as he should’ve been.</p><p> </p><p>When he was younger, pulling an all-nighter or two a week hadn’t been a big deal, especially with the spirit influencing him so much. He’d gotten so much done so quickly, without a thought. With a rueful smile, Ryou figured he was slowly getting older. 21 wasn’t old by any stretch, but maybe he’d aged too quickly from his youth.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, he did just turn his phone off and lay down, convincing his brain to just shut up. It was harder to ignore his hurting stomach, but eventually the loss of sleep shut in and shut him down.</p><p> </p><p>He woke up before his alarm the next morning, however, checking his phone for a reply before giving his eyes time to focus from sleepiness. Isis had texted him back about ten minutes ago, thankfully, with a courteous <em>Of course</em> followed by a string of digits, which Ryou punched into his phone through a yawn.</p><p> </p><p>He then texted Malik—<em>Hey, it’s Bakura. I’m sorry about the other day. If you’d like to talk more, I’d be open to it.</em></p><p> </p><p>With that done, a small sense of satisfaction set over him and he got ready for the day, spending his extra minutes soaking in the warm shower happily. Ryou had gotten a new thermos while here, as well, to keep his coffee warm, given how much more he was drinking to deal with the jet lag.</p><p> </p><p>He was finding he enjoyed it, though, he thought as he stepped out of the hotel room. Egypt was certainly scenic, especially being in a big city like this. He’d seen the desert plenty, but a bustling city was beautiful on this background.</p><p> </p><p>Waiting for Isis at his door, Ryou kept checking his texts for anything from Malik. But there was no read receipt, or text back. Perhaps he was still asleep. Or already at work. What did Malik do for a living, anyway?</p><p> </p><p>“Bakura-san,” Isis said softly, startling the white-haired man.</p><p> </p><p>“Isis-san!” he said, clicking off his phone quickly.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry for startling you.” Isis chuckled gently, motioning him for him to come on down to the cab that would be waiting to take them to the museum. Ryou was beginning to think that Isis was much more gentle and friendly than she let on to be.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” Ryou said with a smile, and they set off down the stairs, and to work.</p><p> </p><p>There wasn’t too much of a difference from his job in Domino City, mostly just the fact that he didn’t know anyone, didn’t know Arabic, and didn’t know where any of their resources were located. So all the hardest parts of a typical new job. Yet, Ryou found himself enjoying it. Right up close, in the same country these old pieces of history had been discovered in.</p><p> </p><p>At noon, while Ryou took his lunch break, he found that Malik had texted him back—all in hiragana no less. Quirking a curious eyebrow, but disregarding the oddity nonetheless, Ryou scanned his message. <em>That’s fine with me. Where and when would you like to meet up?</em></p><p> </p><p>Not being from the area, Ryou replied that he was fine with anywhere—as long as Malik was paying. Malik just replied with a laughing emoji after a few minutes from having read it, then sending a link to a restaurant about an hour from the museum. Ryou worried at his lip, fairly certain he did not want to pay the cab fees for that ride.</p><p> </p><p>They eventually settled on somewhere much closer to the hotel Ryou was staying at, which Malik would ride up to. Tonight, after Ryou was done work, they agreed. While Malik was being polite, there was a forcefulness to it, beyond just Japanese not being his primary language.</p><p> </p><p>Ryou wondered if Isis had spoken to Malik about seeking therapy. The whole Ishtar family would benefit from it, though, wouldn’t they? Ryou could very well imagine the emotional turmoil that the events of their childhood had caused. But especially Malik, given his recent spouting of ridiculous things.</p><p> </p><p>He let Isis know he’d not be going back to the hotel with her tonight, which she instantly replied to with, “Ah, a date so soon?” with a mischievous smirk.</p><p> </p><p>“No, not at all!” he said, taken aback, getting flustered. “I’m meeting up with your brother.”</p><p> </p><p>This didn’t stop the look, however—Isis’ grin snuck a little wider. “He has been asking after you a lot.”</p><p> </p><p>“I swear it’s not like that.” Ryou opened his arms in a defenceless shrug. He wasn’t sure if he should tell her the going-ons that had happened between the spirit and the Egyptian boy at the time of Battle City. If Malik thought said spirit were back, he had all ideas that Malik considered himself to be closed to a new relationship.</p><p> </p><p>Isis let him off, but didn’t completely rid herself of that smile. Ryou tried to ignore the feeling of burning in his ears and cheeks. How desperate was Isis for her brother to get a proper significant other, exactly?</p><p> </p><p>Once it was time to get off, Isis swung by Ryou’s station and wished him well with a gentle nudge and a beam before going back to the hotel herself. Again, the flush crept over Ryou’s face as he swatted her away.</p><p> </p><p>He waited outside, immersed in his phone while keeping an ear out for the whiny hum of a motorbike. Malik was forty-five minutes late to the time they had agreed on, Ryou noted as soon as he heard a high-pitched engine buzzing. He looked up, forced half-smile prepared on his face already.</p><p> </p><p>Squinting against the hot air, Ryou made out an exquisite bike, finished with lavender gleaming against the silver metal. He could make out a figure on the machine for sure, but couldn’t be quite certain it was Malik’s.</p><p> </p><p>With an awful screech, the bike pulled up and Ryou was made certain the driver was indeed Malik, just from his frame and lavish excess of jewellery alone. But Ryou’s smile froze in place chill running to his heart.</p><p> </p><p>Malik wasn’t the only person on the bike.</p><p> </p><p>The Egyptian had an apologetic, nervous look on his face already as he yanked his helmet off, hair flowing freely as opposed to yesterday’s braid, catching and playing in the wind. “He wouldn’t let me leave unless he could come,” Malik said quickly, gesturing to his passenger.</p><p> </p><p>This second person took off his helmet, eyes a deep, murky purple contrasting against the long, wispy white hair falling around his shoulders. A deep scar ran across his right cheek, and a familiar expression of contempt say smugly on his features.</p><p> </p><p>Ryou wasn’t ready for this <em>at all.</em></p>
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